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in the darkest of the nightly storms are when our premonitions warm
there is a timbre junebug through crevices of leaves.
lacene, you were everything.
under the tumbleweed brown blouse and asphalt dreams.
you can't remember what you look like
pontoon can't get you very far
try the trailhead by the lakehouse
"cowgirls" stained, you missed the bar
lacene, you were everything.
under the tumbleweed
brown blouse and asphalt dreams.
they found you out n' down by the river
thinking bout everything that you are
you had to get there on your own feet
since memories can't be made by car.
i heard they'd found you and you were safe now
but you'll never be the same since you're missing,
house was empty and everyone knows your name.
lacene.
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